


Coffee is the Way to a Man’s Heart

by emotionalmorphine



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Dialing, Drunkenness, Gift Fic, Language Barrier, M/M, Meet-Cute, Wintersend Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/pseuds/emotionalmorphine
Summary: Anders accidentally ends up with an attractive stranger’s phone after a sidewalk collision. Now it’s 3am and said-attractive stranger is drunk dialling him and asking him about his cat. This was not how Anders planned his day off.





	Coffee is the Way to a Man’s Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [protect-him (protect_him)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protect_him/gifts).



> Happy (very belated) Wintersend, protect-him! 
> 
> I am so sorry this took so long. But I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! You are awesome and I am very appreciative to you for many things and I’m glad I could write this little thing for you, if nothing else.
> 
> Also a big thanks to tearsofwinter for organising the Wintersend Exchange!

As Cousland shot him a mock salute before rounding the corner, Anders felt the last of his energy leave him with the rush of air from his lips. He visibly deflated, shoulders slumping with just the weight of his backpack. Ten hours on shift and he was covered in coffee grounds, milk, and Lord only knew what else. And he was exhausted.

Which made it all the more tragic that if he wanted to eat anything tonight he would still need to stop in at the supermarket before he caught his bus home. Not eating was looking pretty tempting at the moment. He could feel his heartbeat in his _feet._

But he was also out of cat food and he wasn’t about to let Pounce go hungry.

He would make it quick.

It wasn’t as if he had much money to spend, anyway. Working the coffee machine at a popular coffee shop didn’t pay much and rent took a large portion of his salary every month.

He got a sympathetic smile from the girl at the register as she scanned through his tins of cat food, and fixings for a meager but healthy enough spaghetti Puttanesca.

Anders slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. If he hurried he wouldn’t need to wait for the later bus. And the sooner he got home, the sooner he could start dinner, and the sooner he could eat, and maybe even fit in some study before he fell asleep on the couch.

He took the stairs down towards the road two at a time, hopping down the last one and adding just a little jog to his step. He honestly couldn’t manage much more with the shooting pains up and down his legs and the pulsating of his feet in his shoes, but the idea of arriving home before it was dark was enough to spur him on.

Down the end of the road he could see his bus turn the corner, headed towards the stop. Anders hurried down the last of the steps. He could just about imagine how great it was going to be to take his shoes off.

His last step didn’t meet the ground. He hit something hard - a person? He was falling and there was another body beneath his and they both crashed to the concrete. Anders cursed as his knees slammed into the pavement. Glass shattered and the person he collided with was yelling an impressive number of syllables in a language Anders didn’t understand.

It took him a moment, everything still spinning, white-hot pain slicing through his mind. He - _they_ \- were on the ground at the bottom of the stairs. Anders’ bag of groceries was crumpled on the floor beside him, oozing red sauce over the pavement from the shattered jar. His hands were bleeding where he had grazed his palms on the concrete, trying to stop himself from falling. And the guy he had collided with was rubbing his head, eyes pressed closed. His white - white? Grey? It was like spun silver - hair was disheveled and Anders saw a black beanie on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Anders asked. Neither of them had moved yet but if the guy had broken something or had hit his head hard then they might have a more urgent matter on their hands.

Green eyes looked up at him and Anders sucked in a quick breath. Those were the greenest eyes he had ever seen in real life. Surely they were contacts? Not that he had much time to consider them as the stranger glared at him and shoved him backwards.

“You shouldn’t sit up if you’ve—“

“I’m _fine._ ”

And wow, that voice did things to Anders. This guy was unfairly attractive. Beautiful brown skin with the strangest tattoos running up and down his arms and even up to his chin. Clearly one of those alternative types, who were, coincidentally, one of Anders’ types.

“Do you always stare at people you barrel into and injure?”

Anders frowned. “Excuse me? You weren’t watching where you were going either! I think we’re both a little at fault here.” Anders sat back on his heels and grabbed his sodden grocery bag. “Ick…” Red sauce plopped onto the floor as he lifted the bag.

He plucked out Pounce’s cans and set them aside, trying to shake the worst of the sauce off them. Followed by the packet of pasta, the cardboard box already softening.

“...I have a plastic bag if you need.”

Anders looked up. The guy was watching him and seemed, well, not apologetic but not quite so accusatory now either. “That’d be good.”

With a bit of shuffling of bags and goods, Anders got his meagre pickings packed away minus jar of sauce (though there was still enough sauce on the vegetables he was sure he could just chuck the whole lot in the pan and be no worse off). He wiped his hands on his apron and looked up just in time to see his bus roar past, wind whipping back his hair. He sighed. Of course.

He stuck his hand in his pocket to check the time on his phone. And came up empty. Anders patted his pockets frantically but they were all empty. And he would have gone in to a full blown panic but lying there near the steps were two white phones.

He reached out to take his phone when a loud honk bellowed behind them. Anders spun around, heart hammering in his chest. A guy was leaning out of his crappy car waving at them.

“I apologise for being careless. I hope you are not injured badly.” The guy grabbed his phone from the pavement and shoved it into his pocket and then jammed his beanie back onto his head.

“Let’s go!” the guy in the car yelled. “Hanged Man is calling my name!”

Anders frowned. He watched the guy with silvery hair and gorgeous green eyes jump into the passenger side and the car sped off with a squeal of tires and a billow of exhaust. Anders coughed and held his nose. Gross.

He looked at the ruin around him. Sauce all over the pavement, broken glass in the plastic bag, his remaining groceries, and smears of blood where his knees and palms had bled and dripped. He sighed and grabbed his phone, checking the screen quickly before jamming it into his pocket. At least the glass hadn’t shattered, because that would have been the perfect end to a perfectly shitty day.

* * *

 

Anders didn’t notice that anything was amiss until much, much later that night. He had met Merrill at the bus stop and spent the entire trip listening to her talk about the customers she had during the day and the shipment of roses that were all the wrong colour and truthfully he had zoned out about halfway through their ride back to their apartment block. Merrill lived two floors down with her elderly mother...or aunt? Anders didn’t really remember. Merrill was not exactly a friend. He had met her the day she moved in and she hadn’t stopped talking since.

He had organised dinner for him and Pounce and they ate together in the lounge watching TV. Pounce liked a dinner buddy. And by the time Anders had finished his meal he was so tired he was dozing off watching the latest David Attenborough documentary, the man’s wonderful voice easing him into sleep. He hadn’t even done the dishes before he showered and crawled into bed, Pounce hopping up to find his spot resting over Anders’ feet.

Sleep found him quickly.

Which was why being shocked awake by some kind of techno music and loud singing was so surprising. Anders groaned and rolled over. Who decided to play music at this time of night? The walls here were paper thin. Didn’t anyone have any manners?

And then it was quiet again.

Anders sighed happily and curled into a comfortable ball. It took him seconds to fall back asleep.

...only to be shocked awake again by music blaring.

Anders growled, frustrated and tired. What on Earth was going on? He listened, trying to figure out which neighbour might have decided to switch to...Russian? Bulgarian? techno music in the middle of the night.

And again, it stopped.

Anders frowned. Honestly, it sounded like it was coming from the lounge room. And since Anders lacked any kind of stereo, the only suspect was the TV. He hadn’t thought he left it on but he had been so tired that it was possible. He reached under his pillow for his phone but came up empty handed. Ugh, he must have left that out there, too! He was SO glad tomorrow was his day off.

Anders slipped out of bed. Pounce made a curious mrrp? and rolled onto his back, stretching. Anders shushed him and Pounce probably would have stayed put but the loud music started again and since Anders was getting up, Pounce decided to come along.

The music was definitely coming from the lounge. Anders looked around. The TV was off. But the music was still playing. There was a light on the couch that Anders recognised as his phone. His ringtone was definitely not Euro techno music, though.

He plopped down on the couch and scooped up his phone. Sure enough, someone was calling. He frowned and swiped the screen.

“H-hello?” he croaked, voice sounding as sleepy as he felt.

There was a kind of gurgle from the other end. There was music playing wherever the caller was. And then a hiccup. _“Y-you stole—”_ Anders couldn’t understand the next bit as it was definitely not English.

“Who is this?”

 _“Fenris! Chto za khren?”_ and anything else was lost to the other language the man spoke. But it was enough that Anders could easily recognise just whose voice was on the other end of the line.

The guy who ran into him. That he ran into? There was mutual running into.

“How did you get my number?” Anders asked.

_“—my phone!”_

Anders frowned. He couldn’t mean…? He lifted the phone away from his ear and pressed the home button. It went back to the lock screen, which was a default picture and definitely not a picture of Pounce eating his birthday cake. They couldn’t have…?

“You have my phone…” Anders said as he lifted the phone - not his phone - back to his ear.

_“Obviously. You stole it.”_

“Then you stole mine!”

Silence. Anders rolled his eyes. This guy - Fenris, did he say? Fenris was drunk.

_“I want my phone back.”_

So did Anders. But it was the middle of the night and he wasn’t keen on the idea of heading out to whatever crappy bar this guy was at just to retrieve his phone. Especially as he knew nothing about this guy. He could be in a gang. He could own a weapon. Who knew these days?

“Look, how about you come get it in the morning. I can give you my address and meet you in the lobby.”

There was a muttered string of curses and then the sound of Fenris talking to someone. Anders could mostly hear the pulsating music.

 _“F-fine.”_ Fenris hiccuped again and Anders felt his lips quirk as he held back a laugh. _“Early. It’ll be early. When the bar closes.”_

Anders rolled his eyes. “Fine. Got a pen?”

_“I’ll—note. Put it in the notes.”_

Anders flinched. He hadn’t even thought about how this guy had rung him when it wasn’t his phone. Anders didn’t keep his on lock. He always forgot the code and he didn’t like to use the print recognition because it was easily exploitable. So he kept his phone mostly identification free and logged out of all services when he was done. His name, number, and address were nowhere to be found, nor his social media accounts, and all his contacts were listed with pseudonyms. The only time he locked it under a passcode was at a rally or protest.

Anders looked at the phone in his hand again and when he tried to go to the homepage he was greeted with the thumbprint identification symbol.

Maayybbee he should lock his phone from now on.

 _“I will ring downstairs. When I get downstairs. Then. Understand?”_ Fenris slurred.

“Yes, just be careful coming over. You’re drunk. I don’t want to hear the police found my phone on a DOA somewhere downtown.”

_“...chto?”_

Anders sighed. “Please be careful and I will see you in a few hours.”

* * *

 

Anders expected that to be it. He would see this guy, Fenris, in a few hours, they would exchange phones, and carry on as if this had never happened. So Anders waited. He decided he wouldn’t be able to sleep so he put the kettle on and made some tea and dragged out his textbooks to read the next chapter on immunology. Pounce curled up on his blanket at the end of the couch and hid his head under his paw to block out the light.

Half way through his tea - now cold but still drinkable - and about an hour later, the phone rang. Not his phone. Fenris’ phone.

Anders frowned and picked it up. His own number was on the screen.

“Hello?” he answered.

There was a grunt and he could hear a woman laughing in the background. But no answer.

“Hello? Fenris? Did you butt dial me?”

_“Butt dial… what is ‘butt dial’?”_

Even drunk Fenris had a sexy voice. Anders sighed. “Never mind. What is it?”

_“Your cat… The fat one. You have many cats. Your cat is funny.”_

Anders raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t be seen. He looked towards Pounce. “I’m sure he will be happy to know you think so.”

_“He sleeps on your face and watches TV. He is a good cat.”_

“Yeeess… He is a very good cat. His name is Ser Pounce-a-Lot.”

There was silence for a moment as Fenris considered that information.

 _“That is a ridiculous name,”_ he said.

And hung up.

* * *

 

Twice more Fenris rang back. Once to complain about Anders’ phone and how confusing it was to use in English. Anders didn’t really have an answer to that one. And a second time to talk about coffee, which Fenris was apparently very fond of, and spent about fifteen minutes extolling its virtues to Anders and asking him questions about his store and coffee making procedures.

Anders knew he should be angry that Fenris was going through his pictures (if not other things on his phone), but the situation was all so surreal he sort of let it slide with only one huffy complaint which Fenris completed ignored. There wasn’t anything scandalous in his photo collection - certainly no nudes from him or anyone else. The only balls visible in any pic would probably be Pounce’s. And he wasn’t worried about Fenris being able to use his phone to buy things or transfer money to himself. He wasn’t even worried that a huge debt would be racked up on calls as he had an unlimited plan for local calls and mobile and his account was locked for any international numbers. If Fenris wanted to call all his friends, he was welcome to.

So when the loud, obnoxious techno mix flooded his apartment again (and if Anders knew Fenris a bit better he would complain about his awful choice in music), Anders wasn’t surprised. He answered the phone with a sigh. “Yes, Fenris?”

_“Your name?”_

Anders blinked. Had he never…? He supposed they hadn’t really had time for introductions. He only knew Fenris’ name from when he blurted it out. “It’s Anders.”

_“Anders…”_

Anders felt a shiver run down his spine as his name rolled off Fenris’ tongue.

_“It is a nice name.”_

“Ah, thanks? I did pick it myself.”

More silence. Anders was sure Fenris wasn’t comprehending the meaning of his sentence, far too drunk for intricacies like that.

_“Stop smiling. You smile. A lot.”_

Anders was honestly confused for a moment. Wasn’t he asking about his name? What was he talking about now? Then he realised Fenris meant in his pictures. He must be looking at them still. “People usually smile for pictures.”

_“No. You smile. It is different. You smile and it is—real.”_

Anders was again silent. Fenris was drunk and slurring his words and yet it was one of the nicest things anyone had said to him in a good long while.

 _“You are handsome. Stop it,”_ Fenris said.

Anders spluttered out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. The comment was so unexpected. “Stop being handsome?” he asked between giggles. “I can’t— I don’t know how! How do I stop?”

Fenris huffed. _“You are very pretty. Your hair is like gold… Eyes like honey… But still handsome.”_

His cheeks were red, Anders was sure of it. When was the last time someone had complimented him? When was the last time he had even talked to someone like this, albeit drunk.

 _“May I kiss you?”_ Fenris asked.

Did Fenris just forget he was on the phone? “You’re very drunk. It’s late.”

 _“I want to kiss you,”_ Fenris said. He sounded tired, voice soft.

“Perhaps later. You should get some water. You’ll feel better. Good bye, Fenris.”

_“Bye…”_

Anders ended the call and sat staring at the phone in his hand. Fenris was drunk. He would probably think an elephant in a toupee was attractive at the moment. He had no idea what he was saying.

But still...it was nice to hear.

* * *

 

The final call came at a quarter to six. Anders was dozing, unable to keep his eyes open and attention on the dull material he was trying to process.

He scrambled for the phone in his lap. “Hello? Hello, Fenris?”

_“Mhm. Downstairs. I think I stepped in something…”_

“Just wait there and I will come down. Don’t move.” Anders hung up. Pounce opened his eyes to look at Anders but didn’t otherwise move. He was used to Anders leaving earlier than this in the morning. Anders slid on his shoes and slipped outside, locking the door behind him. His apartment building wasn’t exactly high rent. He didn’t really trust any of his neighbours, despite how many times he had helped them out.

The elevator shook as it descended and there was static from the radio. All typical. When the doors finally opened, Anders stepped out into the lobby and looked around. They didn’t have anything fancy like a doorman or even card access but it was mostly clean and safe.

And there was Fenris, fast asleep on the couch by the wall.

Anders looked around. How had he gotten here? Surely someone must have brought him? It would have been so dangerous for him to come all the way here alone and drunk!

“Fenris? Fenris, it’s Anders,” he said and shook Fenris’ shoulder. It took a moment and an extra shake but Fenris did open his eyes and look up at Anders. Anders was hit once again by just how green his eyes were. “How did you get here?”

“Walked,” Fenris said. His eyes slipped closed again until Anders shook him. “It was not far.”

“Not far? There aren’t any bars around here for a good three miles!”

Fenris grunted.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re coming upstairs and I’m getting you some water and a pillow. You can sleep this off on my couch.”

Fenris was obviously very, very drunk, as he didn’t at all complain, didn’t even answer, just let Anders haul him to his feet.

Getting Fenris upstairs was a feat in itself. He was small but obviously strong and weighed more than Anders expected. And because Anders was so lanky and tall, he had to bend awkwardly to get Fenris’ arm over his shoulder. They did make it, but fell twice and almost had an incident with a neighbour when Fenris grumbled at him and mumbled something in his own language.

Fenris flopped down on the couch and Pounce skittered away towards the bedroom to hide. He didn’t like new people. Especially people who smelled of beer and sweat. If Anders had nicer furniture he might be worried. But he didn’t.

“Here. Lie down and I’ll get you some water and an aspirin. It’ll help.” He handed Fenris an old pillow, which was snapped up with surprising dexterity.

Fenris did as he was told and took the aspirin and downed the whole glass of water before falling asleep on the couch, snoring loudly. Anders stifled a laugh. He took pity on Fenris and removed his shoes and set them near the door. He did hesitate before rifling through Fenris’ pockets but he wanted his phone back and Fenris was very much asleep. Luckily he found his phone first try and slipped it out of Fenris’ pocket. No missed calls or messages but Anders did find a note with his address and several programs open including his photos.

The photo Fenris had stopped at was one of him and Isabela laughing together at a festival last year. Anders wondered if this was the one Fenris had been looking at when he called.

* * *

 

Anders went about his routine as per usual. He made himself a healthy breakfast and ate it on his tiny balcony with a fresh cup of tea. Then he fed Pounce as he read the news on his phone. Pounce scarfed down his food despite their guest, but preferred to slink back to the bedroom to have a wash afterwards instead of taking up his spot on the couch. Anders spent the next couple hours cleaning up. He only had one day off a week and he was usually too tired during the week to do much other than make easy dinners and read a couple chapters of a textbook. Classes would be starting back soon and even though he would take a small cut to his hours at work, he would be going to classes for longer, meaning he would have even less time to do things and be getting probably even less sleep. Still, he was in his third year so it had become somewhat routine and there was no way he would throw in the towel now.

Anders gathered all his laundry to take downstairs later, cleaned the bathroom, his bedroom, and removed his linens (much to Pounce’s dismay), and by then it was time for lunch. Fenris had barely moved and if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, Anders would have worried for his health. But he was clearly alive considering the noise. Anders checked the time; close to 2. That meant Fenris had been sleeping for a good 8-ish hours. He would likely be feeling a lot better.

And Anders decided to be a good host, unexpected as it was, and whipped up two BLTs for lunch along with some fresh coffee.

It was the coffee that woke Fenris.

Anders smiled as Fenris stirred on the couch. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was wafting around the room and Anders remembered their conversation well, even if Fenris probably wouldn’t. Fenris had spoken about coffee like it was holy water.

Anders set a mug down on the coffee table near Fenris. “Afternoon, sleepy-head.”

Fenris cracked open one eyelid and then the other. “Where…? It’s you.”

“It’s me. How are you feeling?”

Fenris reached for the coffee first. It was clearly imperative for this continued conversation. And sure enough as he drank from the mug, Fenris looked like he was being blessed. Anders could definitely say he knew the way to the man’s heart.

Not that he… He didn’t… Silly thought, that was.

“I feel as though I was hit by a truck. A large one.” Fenris took another sip of coffee. “You are the man from yesterday.”

“Correct. Here, eat this. Trust me, it’ll make you feel ten times better, which should bring you up to ‘hit by a small Volkswagen’,” Anders said and handed Fenris the sandwich on the plate.

For a moment Fenris just stared at it but he did take the plate and set it on his lap after sitting up properly.

“How much do you remember of last night?” Anders asked.

“I remember…” Fenris rubbed his head and pushed back his sweaty hair. “Body shots.”

“Oh, those are deadly,” Anders said. Body shots were Isabela’s favourite. And she didn’t make them weak.

“Hng… I had your phone.” Fenris touched his pocket and Anders could see the sudden panic.

“It’s okay, I got it. It’s fine.”

“I apologise for taking it.” Fenris bit into his sandwich and Anders could see the slight distress in his eyes, the stiff posture.

“It wasn’t your fault. Think of it like...an adventure! Plus, you get to meet me, which of course is the highlight of the trip,” Anders said and then bit into his own sandwich to hide his blushing cheeks.

They sat together on the couch eating silently other than a small thanks from Fenris and a reassuring compliment as to his meal’s quality. But for everything that had happened...it didn’t feel so strange. Anders felt like it should be awkward but he didn’t feel that way at all. He almost felt...comfortable.

“Do you remember anything else from last night?” Anders asked as he wiped his hands on a napkin.

Fenris looked up. “You don’t mean…?”

“Oh. No! Nothing happened like that. No, just, you called me several times. It was funny. You spent about twenty minutes telling me how much you love coffee.”

Fenris groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“You almost had kittens when I said I worked at a coffee shop.”

Fenris slowly lowered his hands and looked at Anders. “So...there would be a use for your friendship…?”

Anders burst out laughing and Fenris actually smiled.

* * *

 

Fenris thanked Anders profusely for his hospitality before he left, correct phone in hand.

Anders sighed and saw Pounce sniffing around where Fenris had slept.

“I wonder what he really thought of us, hey, Pounce?”

“ _Mrrp_.”

Anders smiled. He went about the rest of his chores, going down to the basement to do his laundry and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening studying. It was a nice, slow day, which was exactly what he needed.

Yet, a type of melancholy had settled over him. He had been having _fun_ with Fenris. From his calls to his arrival. It had been nice to have someone here. And despite his looks and their first meeting, he was nice, and funny, and… Anders shook his head. Yes, Fenris was attractive. That much was obvious. But what was he supposed to do about it? They’d had one fateful meeting and an interesting day and that was that. Fenris didn’t say anything when he left about ringing again, or maybe meeting up or hanging out. So Anders supposed he was glad to disappear.

When he crawled into bed that night he was feeling considerably less happy, the mood settling over him and loneliness sneaking in at the seams of his life. Perhaps he should call Isabela, arrange to meet up… He only did that when he was desperate. Was he desperate? When did lonely even become desperate?

His pillow buzzed.

Well, his phone _under_ his pillow buzzed. Anders pulled it out and on the screen was a message from a number he didn’t recognise.

< _Thnk u again for letting me stay and for the great coffee i knw a good cafe n i could pay u back for ur genorocity_ >

Anders felt himself smile. The smile grew bigger until his cheeks hurt and he hid his blushing face under his blanket.

Fenris was interested, after all.

Anders poked his head back out so he could see his screen.

< _Would love to join u. But it wont be as good as my coffee!_ >

Anders waited, still blushing. Fenris had actually contacted him. They were going to get coffee together. There might be something—

His phone buzzed and the next message popped up.

< _nothing could beat ur coffee urs is special_ >

Anders squealed and hid back under the covers, dropping his phone on his chest.


End file.
